That evening when she sat at the door-step of her house and when the sun was setting behind the elder-bushes the Spae-Woman told Gilly the third part of the Unique Tale. Then she baked a cake and killed a cock for him and told him to start on the morrow’s morning for the house of the Old Woman of Beare. Well, he started off in the morning bright and early, leaving good health with the Spae-Woman behind him, and away he went, crossing high hills, passing low dales, and keeping on his way without halt or rest, the clear day going and the dark night coming, taking lodgings each evening wherever he found them, and at last he came to the house of the Old Woman of Beare. He went into the house and found her making marks in the ashes of her fire while her cuckoo, her corncrake and her swallow were picking grains off the table. “And what can I do for you, good youth?” said the Old Woman of Beare. “Give me a name,” said Gilly, “and listen to the story I have to tell you.” “That I will not,” said the Old Woman of Beare, “until you have done a task for me.” “What task can I do for you?” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “I would know,” said she, “which of us four is the oldest creature in the world--myself or Laheen the Eagle, Blackfoot the Elk or the Crow of Achill--I leave the Salmon of Assaroe out of account altogether.” “And how can a youth like me help you to know that?” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “An ox was killed on the day I was born and on every one of my birthdays afterwards. The horns of the oxen are in two quarries outside. You must count them and tell me how much half of them amounts to and then I shall know my age.” “That I’ll do if you feed me and give me shelter,” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “Eat as you like,” said the Old Woman of Beare. She pushed him a loaf of bread and a bottle of water. When he cut a slice of the loaf it was just as if nothing had been cut off, and when he took a cupful out of the bottle it was as if no water had been taken out of it at all. When he had drunk and eaten he left the complete loaf and the full bottle of water on the shelf, went outside and began to count the horns on the right-hand side. On the second day a strange youth came to him and saluted him, and then went to count the horns in the quarry on the left-hand side. This youth was none other than the King of Ireland’s Son. On the third day they had the horns all counted. Then Gilly of the Goatskin and the King of Ireland’s Son met together under a bush. “How many horns have you counted?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “So many,” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “And how many horns have you counted?” “So many,” said the King of Ireland’s Son.